


Pareidolia

by Brim



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Lucio-focused, M/M, Pining, also slightly hinted one-sided faafer, post-000 ciofaa, rather one-sided tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 10:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brim/pseuds/Brim
Summary: “Being given life on this world—that is an irreplaceable miracle.”





	Pareidolia

_“I want to show you how beautiful this world you wish to destroy can be.”_

…

 

  Between the stars, where the physical and the abstract blend into one and where the laws of the world are nonexistent…

   A crowd of Astrals shuffled around him. Their blank expressions were obscured by the large hoods of their long, white robes. His own hood was down and other than that he was indistinguishable from the crowd.

   Lucilius was on his way to hand in a report when an uncomfortable feeling assaulted him. It was a new sensation he had no empirical data of – the feeling of having something foreign crawl under his skin, the ghost grouping of fingers at the back of his head, picking apart all of his thoughts and his vision turned hazy, uncertain if what before him is real or a fever dream.

   Feeling sick, he staggered and stopped, dropping his report. The Astrals around him continued on their way as if everything was normal. The more he dwelled on his feelings, the more and more a sense of peril grew. Something very basic, perhaps a primal instinct, rang alarm bells in his head that something was _off_. Like trying to piece back together a puzzle, his mind started analyzing his surroundings and digging into his fragmented memories.

    A familiar pain shocked him and he recalled chocking on his own blood. Lucilius wrapped his fingers around his neck in disbelief. The skin underneath the collar of his suit was smooth, no imperfections, but the _pain_ was still there.

“When will you come out of hiding, Speaker?” He didn’t yell. He didn’t have to. Plots, memories and thoughts returned to him in a flash as if he reached revelation all over again.

   Lucilius remembered what happened at the divine tower.

   The Astrals around him slowed down, until their image froze mid-motion. After a moment, they flickered in and out of existence, as if static and until they completely disappeared, leaving Lucilius alone in the tall, white hallways of the Astral Laboratory. He heard the sound of solitary steps coming from behind him and he turned to its source only to be greeted by a familiar visage.

_Lucifer._

   Except it wasn’t him – Lucilius wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. After all, he was the current owner of that body. Lucifer was dead.

   The original’s lips curled upwards into a sincere smile, warm like the sun’s rays. The six white wings on his back seemed like an odd mirage. When Lucio was just a few steps away, Lucilius realized that everything was real. He wasn’t facing an illusion. 

“You’ve awakened faster than expected.” His tone was calm, light as if this was a meeting between old friends. Lucilius frowned.

“How long was I incapacitated?”

“Not long.” Lucio hummed, but then his expression slumped and his wings lowered, almost apologetic. “It would have been better if you slept for longer. Unfortunately I cannot let you out.”

  Lucilius lost memory of what happened afterwards. When he awakened, he was floating in a sea of darkness again, returned to his _current_ state. Soon his consciousness disconnected from his body once more. 

…

 

   After that encounter, the scenery shifted.  It was artificial again, another prison used to contain Lucilius’ consciousness, while his body floated in a strange dance between dreamless sleep and drowning in oblivion.  This was part of the Speaker’s mercy – this separation of physical and incorporeal was better than the complete nothingness he was destined to face. It was mercy, but also an opportunity to try to reach him. 

   Lucio weaved it from Lucilius’ dreams and memories. He didn’t often do this sort of things, but Lucio took great care in designing it. It was a small world, like a snow globe, that was based on the balconies of the old Astral Laboratory. It was there that Lucio found from his memories that his clone smiled the most. On the white-stone balconies, by the tall pillars, his clone met his creation and a lukewarm feeling settled in Lucilius’ chest.

_"My friend."_

  The scene was the same, but the actors were different. Lucilius was seated on the ground, leaning against the pillar and blankly staring at the sky below him. The sky was artificial, of course, but the show of light and sounds was convincing enough illusion to capture even the most skeptical audience. Other than thinking, Lucilius had nothing else to do in this empty world.

   Death would have been a kinder punishment because boredom was starting to eat away at his sanity. 

   Lucio stepped beside him, his six brilliantly white wings behind him. With just himself and his clone, Lucio could afford stretching out his wings. The astral balconies were a lot more spacious than the ship’s deck he was used to and he didn’t have to hide in front of his other half.

   On the other hand, Lucilius didn’t acknowledge his presence. Lucio started visiting him with growing frequency and they mostly spend the time standing by each other’s side in complete silence. Sometimes Lucio asked him something or commented on another, but Lucilius never answered him.

   Lucio would sigh and try again later.

“You’re still refusing to speak with me?” It was the sixth visit and Lucio was still maintaining the pleasant tone. It was this sort of childish stubbornness that made Lucilius finally look up to him in bored annoyance.

“You must be used to that by now with that master of yours.”

   It was very brief, but there was a crack in that perfect façade. It was short, but not short enough for Lucilius to miss. Lucio blinked, too flabbergasted to even say anything in retort or acknowledge that Lucilius actually _spoke_ to him.  Afterwards, Lucio didn’t say anything for the remainder of the visit. Eventually, he quietly disappeared. 

   In the meantime, Lucilius got curious.

   The next visit, Lucio didn’t find him on his usual spot by the pillar, but instead he was up and about, roaming around the balconies’ tall, domed hallways. Lucio followed him, floating beside him on his tiny pair of wings and beaming a smile. His wings flapped rapidly in order to catch up to his clone’s pace.

“I see you’ve decided to explore your confinement!” Lucilius didn’t look at him. His heels loudly tapped on the stone pavement in rushed steps. He reached a doorway and tried to open it, clawed fingers gripping at and pulling the handles of the tall iron gates. 

“I can’t get in.” He muttered under his nose more to himself than to Lucio. Lucio stepped on the ground beside him.

“I apologize, but I didn’t have enough data to fully recreate the inside of the Laboratories.” Lucio apologized in a small bow. Lucilius exhaled audibly in frustration and his shoulders slumped. Lucio wanted to apologize again, but he didn’t expect for his clone to just start hitting and kicking the gate.

“Wait! Please, stop! You don’t have your powers here.” Lucio urged him, but it fell in deaf ears. At this point Lucilius’ destruction was an outburst of vexation and not out of some specific purpose. Lucio tried his best to calm his rampage. 

“Please stop. I can’t repair your surroundings if you destroy it.”

  Lucilius paused and jerked his head back to him.

“So it’s a bubble?”

“Bubble?” Lucio repeated levelly.

“An artificially maintained situation created in isolation from reality that is unlikely to last. You’ve based it on my memories, but you don’t have the full picture. You’ve created this pipe dream in order to contain my consciousness away from my body.”

   The change between the madman bashing at the iron gates and the cold, calculating player was too abrupt. Lucio remained silent before he revealed anything else. His clone was correct – even as the divine Speaker, Lucio had no authority in the space between dimensions. The only way he could physically stop him was to confine him in a space where even the Omnipotent had no reach in. However the only way he could reach his heart was to separate him like this and keep him in this _dream_ , located in the borderlines of the world.

_“The subconscious of every creature in god’s creation is fundamentally linked.”_

   Lucilius sneered.

“I was correct, wasn’t I?”

 _His wit is terrifying_. Lucio thought and slowly nodded his head. It seemed like he had been underestimating his clone, just as Lucio had been overestimating himself. After all, who else, but his clone would be able to understand and expose him like this?

…

 

  The next visit, Lucilius had completely given up on his solitary sulk and started scratching on the marbled pillars with clawed fingers. The marks formed a jumble of diagrams and letters.

“What are you doing?” Lucio inquired, but Lucilius ignored him – the Astral didn’t have time to answer obvious questions. _Expectantly_ , that didn’t discourage Lucio, who continued roaming and floating around him, while Lucilius wrote in rough carvings on the pillars.

  Lucio tried to reads some of the letters, but his sight flickered and his mind span in bewilderment whenever he tried to guess what the language was in order to read. A few skydweller tongues and their letters rotated around his brain, but none of them matched it perfectly.

  Sensing his clone’s confusion, Lucilius huffed in amusement.

“Astral runic code.” He clarified.  

“Ah.”

   The next visit, Lucio tried to read them again. While he was away, he used the time to learn the language by using various skydweller and astral resources. Being the divine Speaker, coming across information and processing it was second nature. No Astral code, no matter how secretive, was going to evade him. 

   However, when he tried to read it again, although he could make out the letters, he couldn’t understand it – the writings on the pillars were in complete gibberish. The more and more he tried to read the more his head span in complete stupefaction.

   Sensing his frustration again, Lucilius smirked.

“Of course, I never said I didn’t have my own code.” The code served him well whenever he had to hide data from the High Council and Beelzebub. That Astrals’ greed was not something he could trust. Back then he called it formulas and Beelzebub hadn’t been versed enough in his research relating to archangels and their creation to question him.

“Ah.” Lucio sighed again a muted gesture.

…

 

   When Lucilius finished carving up the 23rd pillar, Lucio gave him a small wooden box. Lucilius regarded him with suspicion until he, eventually, took the box from him and opened it only to find it full of white chalk. Lucilius scowled in confusion.

“This should make it easier for you.”  Lucio answered with yet another beaming smile and his clone took out the chalk and started writing with it.  

   The writing speed significantly improved afterwards. When Lucilius couldn’t reach any higher on the pillars, he started writing on the ground. Whenever he was running low on chalk, his wooden box would mysteriously be filled up with it again.

 _What an odd creature._ He eyed the Speaker after he finished drafting all the reasons his legacy was mishandled.  

…

 

_A lifetime ago._

“This is impressive, my friend. How did you reach this conclusion?” It was a growing rarity, but there was light in Lucifer’s blue eyes.

  They’d been discussing concepts and ideas, until their brainstorming session ended in a dead-end when they reached hypothesis concerning the moondwellers, their origin and how to defeat them. The two biggest geniuses in the skies spend days pondering to no veil in the wake of the returning threat.

  Until Lucilius had an epiphany.  

“A gut feeling.” Lucilius shrugged, not quite sure how he came to this conclusion either. Sometimes things like this happened – revelations and conclusion came to him in dreams and he would wake up, scrambling to write it down before it sank down to the bottom of his sub-consciousness again.

  However, he never ceased to wonder why and the lingering _doubt_ always haunted him whenever a theory of his was proven right, despite all odds. Was it another manifestation of his genius? Or could he not trust even himself in this worthlessly flawed world?

_“This level of overlap between deductions and reality cannot be attributed to coincidence…”_

 

_“Even if you were not an exact copy, you must have noticed some phenomena that defied explanation, have you not? Information in the back of your mind you had no opportunity to come by. Experience that seemed to be imparted by dreams.”_

   He found the answer to those questions and many more at Etemenanki. 

 

  Lucilius ran simulations in his mind. Different details, different course of actions and sometimes different players – he analyzed each scenario carefully, learning from his mistakes and oversights in order to create the perfect plan or the perfect backup plans. The results and his thoughts was what he wrote down on the marbled pillars and the stone floors of his prison. Other than pondering on past mistakes and thinking about his plans, he didn’t have much else to do.

  Lucio idled near him whenever he visit and for the most part Lucilius ignored him entirely. He understood why the Speaker was playing the role of his warden, but that didn’t concern him. Apathy took root inside him to all matters relating to Lucio. The Speaker, _an outdated model_ , wasn’t a threat.

  Lucio peeked over his shoulder, while Lucilius was on his knees and bend over to write on the stone ground.

_Perhaps if I kill the Singularity first…_

“Don’t kill the Singularity, please. The captain is my friend and they are very dear to me.”

  Lucilius’ narrowed his eyes. His thoughts paused and his hand momentarily stopped writing, before he continued again.

 _How did he figure out the code?_ He wrote down and Lucio chuckled over his head. 

“Maybe, I could assist you?” The Speaker moved closer and squatted on the ground beside him. 

“Is it common practice for the divine representative to aid his enemies?” Without looking up, Lucilius laughed. Lucio put a hand under is chin in a thoughtful expression.

“Well, I don’t consider you an enemy. More like misguided.”

  The chalk in Lucilius’ hand snapped in half. It was a momentary loss of control in which Lucilius vision turned red and his head started spinning, because of the sheer _power_ of the vexation he felt. However it very quickly shimmered down to cold disappointment. He was losing his cool too much over this and the Speaker wasn’t worth it.

  Lucilius sighed and picked up another piece of chalk from the box to continue.

“I just want to be your friend.” Lucio moved again, so that he didn’t a cast a shadow over Lucilius’ writings. The only light source on the balconies was the suspended image of a rising sun peeking behind the clouds.

“I don’t need friends.”

“But you had Lucifer as your friend.”

   Lucilius stopped writing again, but this time he didn’t continue. He looked up and _glared_ at Lucio. Surprised, Lucio wanted to move a step back from his squat, but he ended up stumbling and falling on his behind with a small thud.

“Your voice is irritating me. Can’t you just stay silent?”

“But we share the same voice—“

   Lucilius interrupted him with an audible, exasperated exhale and leaned back into a sitting position too. He extended his legs to stretch and then stared blankly at the horizon beyond the pillars in thought.

   Lucio scooted closer to sit by his side. This befriending process was harder than he imagined. The crew he was with made it seem easy, but one of the many things he learned since he started travelling with skydwellers is that their strengths lies in their wishes and their refusal to give up.

“So?” Lucio asked.

“So?” Lucilius answered back. The conversation ceased and another tense silence followed.

  While idling, Lucio picked up a piece of chalk and started drawing on the small space between them. First a big square and then he split it into smaller sections. Next he drew a circle in one of the small squares and offered the chalk to Lucilius.

“Have you ever played it before?” Lucilius furrowed his brows, but took the piece anyway. After a moment of hesitation, he drew an x in the square next to Lucio’s. He gave the chalk back.

“I’ve seen the primarchs play it.” While waiting for their examinations, his creatures drew in the sand with their fingers. It was a popular game among the smaller archangels. Lucilius knew the rules, or at least the gist of it, having learnt from observations, but he himself never played it.

“I haven’t played it prior to joining the crew. It’s very hard to win.” Lucio drew another circle and offered it to Lucilius again. His clone took it once more and they continued playing.

   Lucilius could guess why it was hard from seeing all the leftover drawings from the archangels. The game was simple –there were very few rules, with goal being to consistently conquer the map in order to gain monopoly of it. Because both players mirrored their every move and kept blocking each other, they played until both sides exhausted their space to move and the game ended in a zero-sum.

_“Skydwellers and Astrals alike used as tools of homeostasis…What a miserable existence.”_

   Lucilius narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“Did you just let them win like you’re letting me?” He crossed three symbols with a flat line, marking his victory. Lucilius was the winner of this game, but his satisfaction rang hollow.

“Beginner’s luck.”  Lucio answered with a chuckle.

  Afterwards, Lucio started bringing more games to occupy him with whenever he visited. Lucilius usually ignored him in favor of plotting, but sometimes he joined him. Whenever he did, they talked about things.

“I don’t know the meaning of that word.” He said dully. They were playing a word game in which they placed tiles bearing single letters on a grid. The tiles had to form words from left to right or downwards in columns. The simplest rules were in order, coupled with the fact that the world had to exist in the current world for it to viable.

“Ah, it’s a new one. It means…”

  During their games, Lucilius asked him questions and Lucio answered. He used these little games to probe Lucio about events and information regarding the current state of the world and Lucio was always helpful and eager to oblige. With the new information, Lucilius corrected or updated his plan whenever needed.

…

 

   Eventually, Lucilius stopped writing.

   His warden found him by the tall pillars again. He was sitting on the ground, thoughtful with his head buried in his knees. Lucio gave him a worried look when he approached him. Maybe, his clone needed a change of scenery?

“Why did you stop?” Lucio asked him. His clone didn’t look up, but he heard an exhale, notably a sigh.

“I’ve reached a large obstacle in my plan that I don’t know how to overcome.”  Lucilius explained uncertain himself as to why he bothered to answer his clone. His clone could read what he wrote down, so if he really wanted to find out why he could very easily do so. Despite that, simply _talking_ to his doppelganger put his mind a bit more at ease. Perhaps he had grown too used to Lucio’s presence? _Utterly laughable._

“A lag in the system.” He clarified to Lucio’s puzzled look.  

“Oh, maybe I could help you?” It was the second time he offered direct help to his clone.

"What's your gain from this?" 

  Lucio knew what his plans were. As the divine Speaker, he had been watching over the world since before the world was split in half. In the course of the endless conflict between the sky and the starts he saw many threats come and pass. He even witnessed the rise to power of his own clone and his attempt to bring forth a cataclysm that would destroy both realms. 

   He mostly remained as a silent observer, spending all his time looking for a conclusion – waiting, hoping and yearning for an answer. For his master’s words.

_“I wish to know whether I am needed in this world. Or perhaps…whether my master can still be considered a force for good in this dimension.”_

In the course of waiting for said solution, he learned more and more about the skydwellers – denizens of this lovely world his master created. The Singularity. The blue-haired. The small red dragon. Their friends and their crew. It was from their strength that Lucio learned about why it was worth protecting.

“I can understand your frustration. I’ve always been waiting for an intervention. But it was thanks to the captain and his crew that I found that it was our imperfections that made is perfect.” Lucio commented.  

_And it is also why, you too, should not be forsaken._

  Lucilius lifted his head, staring at him blankly.

“Fine then. Come closer.” He tried to smile, but it came off as a crooked grimace. Lucio beamed at the sudden interest and flew towards him, his tiny wings flapping energetically on his back. No sooner that he sat down beside him, Lucilius reached over to grab his wings and  _yanked_. 

  Surprised, Lucio started whining.  

“Stop! Please!” He tried to brush his hands away, but his clone’s grip was surprisingly strong. The pain wasn’t severe - after all these weren’t his real wings. His clone’s tugging and behavior was more concerning.

“Those don’t fit you.” Lucilius commented coldly, trying to pluck them off. His clawed fingers dug into their material, but it drew no blood. It was like his claws sank into foam.

  They continued fighting and tugging like little children - Lucio complained, asking for him to stop and trying to push him away while Lucilius pulled and clawed.

“Where are your real wings? I don’t want to look at these cheap imitations.” Lucilius provoked him. Lucio tried to crawl away, but Lucilius was all over him, eventually pushing him to ground and sitting on his back. Lucio tried to turn and slide away.

“Stop, you mustn’t fight over me!” Despite Lucilius’ efforts, he couldn’t tear them off. The material was soft and flexible, almost like a cloud and it was like he was trying to tear apart the fabric of space itself.

   In the end, realizing his own futility, Lucilius gave up. In his current state there was very little he could do and he certainly couldn’t _physically_ hurt the Speaker. He released the grip on the tiny wings and rolled off him, sitting back in his previous position. Dejected, he buried his head in knees again.

  If it wasn’t for what had transpired mere moments ago, Lucio would have considered his sulking endearing, _cute_ even, but the shallow ache at the base of his wings from all the pulling prevented him from doing so.

“Just go away.” Lucilius sighed again and Lucio blinked. He sat down in front of him, at a safe enough distance that if his clone tried to lunge at him again he could escape.  

“I want to help you.”

“Useless creature.”

“Useless?”

“Well your master is gone and you still cling to him for answers.” Lucilius’ blunt reply came with a pitying glare.

_“When you ask about your true purpose, have you even once received an answer?”_

  Lucio’s heart trembled. It was a split second - the briefest moment in which his consciousness momentarily faded. Fortunately for both, he managed to compose himself so on the outside he maintained the perfectly stoic figure. Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with his very observant clone. The momentary cold stare wasn’t something that Lucilius missed. His eyes darted back to him. Lucio closed his, calming the storm of emotions inside of him. Anger? Bitterness? Resentment? Despair? He didn’t know the answer  to that question. 

“Well doesn’t matter. We both wish to see our master.” Lucio sighed and looked away, avoiding his clone’s studying gaze. He couldn’t get mad at him – it wasn’t his fault that he was created as a flawed copy. Lucilius was an unpolished diamond, abandoned by the Astral God.

“I don’t have a master.” Lucilius snapped back at him.

“Then, you are a slave to your own heart?” Lucio interjected with his tone firmer than usual. An echo of his earlier umbrage at his clone’s remark.  

   Lucilius grimaced again. _Useless agendas make for a useless breed._

“I would rather stay true to myself than exist as a divine tool.” A twisted smile decorated his face as a sneer. It was Lucio’s turn to sigh and Lucilius replied by clicked his tongue. He looked away, clearly insulted by the Speaker’s presence.

   Their little game was going to end in a zero-sum for the time being. 

 _It pains me to admit it, but my capabilities are too limited to handle him_. _I have to continue waiting for the conclusion to this storyline of mass destruction._

   After that conversation, Lucio stopped visiting him. That left Lucilius with nothing, but his complete solitude and the detailed writings on the walls and pillars about incomplete plans and untested hypotheses. In his confinement, Lucilius had no means to count time, as the distant horizon never changed. The only indication of the time passed in this bubble had been the Speaker’s visits.

  While idling, propped up against the pillar and yet again watching the show of light and sound play out in the sea of clouds beneath the balconies of the Astral Laboratory, Lucilius briefly wondered whether even the divine Speaker, his so-called perfect clone, forsook him.

  He wasn’t the first and he wasn’t going to be the last one to do so.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I really appreciate your feedback! 
> 
> wow gotta love the wmtsb saga ending with a book-ends between part 1 and part 3 with the way someone something got locked up in a closed-off space with varying degrees of mishandling, except lucio is a bigger try-hard, and although he means well, he's worse in the emotional maturity aspect than lucifer, so bahamut save us 
> 
> also faa-san raid soon, I can't wait!


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